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Or bobtail tike, or trundle-tail; Tom will make them weep and wail: For, with throwing thus my head, Dogs leap the hatch, and all are fled. Do de, de de. Sessa. Come, march to wakes and fairs, and market towns:—Poor Tom, thy horn is dry". Lear. Then let them anatomise Regan, see what breeds about her heart: Is there any cause in nature, that makes these hard hearts?—You, sir, I entertain you for one of my hundred; only, I do not like the fashion of your garments: you will say, they are Persian attire; but let them be changed. [To Edgar. Kent. Now, good my lord, lie here, and rest awhile. Lear. Make no noise, make no noise; draw the curtains: So, so, so : We'll go to supper i'the morning: So, so, so, Fool. And I'll go to bed at noon.

Re-enter GLost ER.

Glo. Come hither, friend: Where is the king my master? Kent. Here, sir; but trouble him not, his wits are gone. Glo. Good friend, I pr’ythee take him in thy arms; I have o'er-heard a plot of death upon him: There is a litter ready; lay him in't, And drive toward Dover, friend, where thou shalt meet

Both welcome and protection. Take up thy master:
If thou should'st dally half an hour, his life,
With thine, and all that offer to defend him,
Stand in assured loss: Take up, take up;
And follow me, that will to some provision
Give thee quick conduct.

[Kent. Oppress'd nature sleeps:—
This rest might yet have balm'd thy broken senses,
Which, if convenience will not allow,
Stand in hard cure.—Come, help to bear thy master;

Thou must not stay behind. [To the Fool. Glo. - Come, come, away. [Ereunt Kent, Gloster, and the Fool, bearing off the king.

Edg. When we our betters see bearing our woes, We scarcely think our miseries our foes. Who alone suffers, suffers most i'the mind; Leaving free things, and happy shows, behind: But then the mind much sufferance doth o'erskip, When grief hath mates, and bearing fellowship. How light and portable my pain seems now, When that, which makes me bend, makes the king bow; He childed, as I father'd l—Tom, away: Mark the high noises; and thyself bewray, When false opinion, whose wrong thought defiles thee, In thy just proof, repeals, and reconciles thee. What will hap more to-night, safe scape the king! Lurk, lurk.] - [Erit.

SCENE VII.

A Room in Gloster's Castle.

Enter CornwALL, REGAN, Go NERIL, EDM UND, and Servants.

Corn. Post speedily to my lord your husband; show him this letter:—the army of France is landed:– Seek out the villain Gloster.

[Ereunt some of the servants.

Reg. Hang him instantly.

Gon. Pluck out his eyes.

Corn. Leave him to my displeasure.—Edmund, keep you our sister company; the revenges we are bound to take upon your traitorous father, are not fit for your beholding. Advise the duke, where you are going, to a most festinate preparation; we are bound to the like. Our posts shall be swift, and intelligent betwixt us. Farewell, dear sister;—farewell, my lord of Gloster”.

Enter Steward.

How now? Where's the king?

Stew. My lord of Gloster hath convey'd him hence: Some five or six and thirty of his knights, Hot questrists after him, met him at gate; , Who, with some other of the lord's dependants, Are gone with him towards Dover; where they boast To have well-arm'd friends.

Corn. Get horses for your mistress. Gon. Farewell, sweet lord, and sister. [Ereunt Goneril and Edmund. Corn. Edmund, farewell.—Go, seek the traitor Gloster, Pinion him like a thief, bring him before us: [Ereunt other Servants. Though well we may not pass upon his life Without the form of justice; yet our power Shall do a courtesy to our wrath, which men May blame, but not control. Who's there? The traitor?

Re-enter Servants, with GLost ER.

Reg. Ingrateful fox!'tis he. Corn. Bind fast his corky arms”. Glo. What mean your graces?—Good my friends, consider You are my guests: do me no foul play, friends. Corn. Bind him, I say. [Servants bind him. Reg. Hard, hard:—O filthy traitor! Glo. Unmerciful lady as you are, I am none. Corn. To this chair bind him:—Villain, thou shalt find— [Regan plucks his beard. Glo. By the kind gods, 'tis most ignobly done To pluck me by the beard. Reg. So white, and such a traitor! Glo. Naughty lady, These hairs, which thou dost ravish from my chin, Will quicken, and accuse thee: I am your host; WOL., XIII, I

With robbers' hands, my hospitable favours
You should not ruffle thus. What will you do?
Corm. Come, sir, what letters had you late from
France?
Reg. Be simple-answer'd, for we know the truth.
Corn. And what confederacy have you with the
traitors
Late footed in the kingdom?
Reg. To whose hands have you sent the lunatick
king?
Speak.
Glo. I have a letter guessingly set down,
Which came from one that's of a neutral heart,
And not from one oppos'd.

Corn. Cunning.

Reg. And false. Corn. Where hast thou sent the king?

Glo. To Dover.

Reg. Wherefore

To Dover? Wast thou not charg’d at thy peril—
Corn. Wherefore to Dover ? Let him first answer
that.
Glo. I am tied to the stake, and I must stand the
course.
Reg. Wherefore to Dover?
Glo. Because I would not see thy cruel nails
Pluck out his poor old eyes; northy fierce sister
In his anointed flesh stick boarish fangs.
The sea, with such a storm as his bare head
In hell-black night endur'd, would have buoy'd up,

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